GR11 Etapa 4: Elizondo – Aratun
Data: 04 Juliol 2019
Distància/desnivell: 23.6 km / (+1478),(-499)
Temps en moviment: 7h 06'
M'alce, recull l'habitació i baixem al carrer. Desdejune al bar de l'alberg. Café, suc i un pintxo de cansalada. Cal agafar forces, em dic. Al costat de l'alberg hi ha un supermercat, aprofite per a comprar un sac menut de 800 g de pinso per cadells. Moguem cap a dins d'Elizondo, direcció Correus. L'oficina ja està oberta quan arribem i l'home del taulell m'atén amb molta amabilitat. Envie els objectes nominats cap a casa per uns 14 €. L'home ha embalat el material a consciència i el preu inclou una assegurança. Tot i això, sé que no estaré tranquil fins que el material arribe a casa, ja que l'assegurança no cobreix ni una dècima part l'import total del material empaquetat. Tuca ha estat fora mentre jo feia les gestions i intentava que els seus lladrits no m'afectaren.
Qüestions quotidianes com puguen ser entrar al bar per desdejunar, fer la compra a una botiga o enviar un paquet per Correus; poden arribar a ser desesperants si tens una gosa tan dependent i comprometedora com Tuca a càrrec teu. Quan he de deixar-la sola, la lligue a un arbre o fanal, o directament a la motxilla si no hi ha res millor al meu abast. Quan travesse la porta s'asseu i em mira fixament a través del vidre, vigilant amb atenció cadascun dels meus moviments, sense perdre'm de vista. Si considera que tarde, s'impacienta i comença a lladrar exigint la meua tornada. Imagine que amb els dies anirà habituant-se a aquestes rutines i espere a poc a poc aconseguisca quedar-se més relaxada i fins i tot, aprofite la parada per a pegar una becadeta.
El dia transcorre entre trams a l'ombra de denses fagedes i altres a cel obert sobre prats replets de milans i voltors. El dia ens regala l'oportunitat de poder observar una rabosa entretinguda caçant rossegadors entre falagueres. La direcció del vent ens impedeix ser descoberts per l'elusiu depredador.
Amb la caiguda del sol, apareixen, per milions, uns famolencs mosquits minúsculs, que no ens deixen tranquils. Els maleïts insectes aprofiten qualsevol escletxa entre les peces de roba, per menuda que siga, per xuclar-me la sang. Tuca, acovardida, entra a la tenda per escapar. Considere cuinar amb el foguer d'alcohol dins la tenda, però al cap de pocs segons veig que la idea és inviable. L'olor i la calor que es genera immediatament després d'encendre el foguer em sembla perillós. Així que em done pressa per cuinar uns fideus fora de la tenda, tapat literalment de cap a peus. Agafe els utensilis com puc sense traure les mans de les mànegues del polar i, a través de la tela de la braga, vigile els fideus. En acabar, entre dins de casa amb Tuca i tanque la cremallera tan de pressa com puc. Unes desenes de vampirs han aconseguit entrar amb mi i em passe uns minuts esclafant-los contra les parets fins que no en queda ni un volant.
Relive 'GR11 Etapa 4: Elizondo - Aratun'
English:
GR11 STAGE 4: ELIZONDO – ARATUN
Date: 04 July 2019
Distance/elevation: 23.6 km / (+1478),(-499)
Time in motion: 7h 06'
Time in motion: 7h 06'
I get up, clear up the room and go downstairs and into the
street. I have breakfast in the hostel bar; coffee, juice and a local “pintxo”
(greasy bacon on toast). I have to gain strength, I tell myself. There is a
supermarket next to the hostel, I go inside and buy a small 800 g bag of
puppy food. We move inwards to Elizondo, towards the Post Office. The office is
already open when we arrive, and the man at the desk is friendly to me. I send
all the selected items home for around 14 €. The man has packed the material
pretty well and the price paid includes insurance. However, I know I will not
be calm until the box arrives home, as the insurance does not cover even one
tenth of the total amount of the packed material. Tuca has been outside while I mailed the package and I was trying to prevent her barking from affecting me.
The wind is howling up
here and Tuca dreams as she moves her paws from time to time. Poor girl, she
must have burst. For the moment, her pads are in good condition. She's
holding on like a champion. I set up the tent interior into sleep mode, gather
this afternoon’s memories in the notebook with a few brief notes and plan for
tomorrow’s stage until falling asleep inside the sleeping bag.
Everyday routines such as going into a bar for
breakfast, shopping at a store or mailing a package; can become daunting if you
have a dog as dependent and misbehaved as Tuca in your care. When I have to
leave her alone, I tie her to a tree or lamppost, or directly to my backpack if
there is nothing better around. Once I walk through the door he sits and stares
at me through the glass, monitoring carefully each one of my movements,
without losing sight of me. If she thinks that it is taking too long, she gets
impatient and starts barking demanding my return. I imagine that her behaviour
is due to the fact that she is not accustomed to these routines at all and I
really hope that, as the time goes by, she will gradually become more relaxed
and even she will take advantage of those stops to nap.
The story repeats, this is another day that we have
set off later than I would have liked, nevertheless the day goes surprisingly
well and we are already beyond the initially stated goal. The actual start and finish hours of the stages are not what I had planned before engaging on
this adventure. My plan was to always set off before sunrise and to reach the
end of the stage around three or four in the afternoon, having enough daylight
ahead of us to setup camp. But as the days go by, I realise that it is absurd
to progress stressed out with self-imposed haste. In the end, all I want is to
enjoy the trail and, with so many kilometres ahead to cross the Pyrenees, haste will not be a good ally. This let’s call it relaxed routine also has its
advantages when hiking with a tent. Starting with the sun already in the sky allows
the tent to have almost dried before putting it away in my backpack. The break at
noon, just after lunch, when the sun radiates with all its strength, gives me
enough time to study the map for the rest of the day, keep track on the
notebook of what has happened during the morning, and even for a small
energy-recovering nap. And while it can seem contradictory, getting to the end
of the stage with just a couple of hours before dusk, allows setting the
definitive camp without being afraid to be seen.
We pass some sections of the stage under the thick
shade of beech trees whilst during other sections we walk well in the open on
meadows packed with griffon vultures and kites. The day gives us the
opportunity to feast our eyes upon a fox hunting for rodents among ferns. The
direction of the wind prevents us from being discovered by the elusive
predator.
Once passed the Urbillo pass (892 m), the views in
front of us are spectacular. We walk along the right side of a fence that
connects the line of ancient milestones marking the border between Spain and
France. In this area, in addition to the usual war bunkers, we also find the
famous Cromlechs, megalithic monuments in the form of stone circles.
We cross the beech forest of Quinto Real (Kintoa)
until we reach the col of Urkiaga (912 m). At the bottom of the col we cross a
road that leads to the border with France through the mountain pass. This is
the end of the GR11 official stage, but we cannot camp in this area at all. I
decide to follow Cicerone’s guidebook recommendation and we move on towards the
Aratun pass (1212 m) to spend the night there. The camp will be located at the
bottom of the Adi summit, just before starting tomorrow’s descent heading to
Sorogain’s refuge.
Gathering around the pass, a group of people are doing
maintenance on signing the trails in the area. The guys agree with the
guidebook and recommend that I spend the night just up there. After erecting the
tent I use the physiotherapist wildcard and I call my friend Estel asking her for
some exercises to get rid of the granite stones that I have in place of my
calves. The last climb up through the pine forest has been devastating and my
legs suffered.
As the sun goes down, millions of tiny hungry
mosquitoes appear and do not leave us alone. The damn insects take advantage of
any crevice in my clothes, no matter how small, to suck my blood. Tuca, cowed,
enters the tent trying to escape from their incessant biting. I consider
cooking with the alcohol stove inside the tent, but after trying the idea out for a
few seconds I see that the idea is not viable. The smell and heat that it emits
immediately after I light the flame seems to be too dangerous. So, literally
covered from head to toe, I rush outside the tent to cook some quick noodles. I grab the pot and spoon as well as I can without taking my hands out from
the fleece sleeves and watch over the noodles through the neck gaiter. Once the
meal is done, I go inside with Tuca and close the zipper as fast as I can. Dozens
of the vampires have managed to come in behind me. I spend a few minutes smashing
them against the tent walls until there is not a single one left flying.
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